Death By Degrees (21 page)

Epilogue

W
e sat around the Christmas tree in Kat’s parents’ apartment in Warsaw, the kids filled to the brim with a mix of excitement and sadness. A large portrait of Kat sat on the table beside the Christmas tree. None of us had given up hope, and we refused to believe that she was gone.

It had been several months with no signs of her whatsoever. The search continued with every day that passed, but each day seemed to bring us no closer to having her home. When we returned from Israel there was a press conference regarding Kat. We begged for anyone with any information to come forward. I put the majority of the money I’d received from the insurance payout on the house down as a reward with INTERPOL and other organizations contributing as well. Even with a million dollars for information leading to her location, we had nothing.

Kat’s parents were suffering from the loss of their only daughter, their failing health had worsened and I worried that they wouldn’t last long enough for us to find her and bring her home to them. They seemed to have lost everything when she went missing. Nothing seemed to bring them the joy they once had. Even with the grandkids around, they just weren’t the same.

I had put every ounce of energy I had into looking for Kat, and the kids had suffered for it. Chen and Julie eventually went back home, Eddie went back to London, and Najat went to meet Dr. Heinlen in Africa before returning to London and moving in with Eddie. Kara refused to leave. She quit the OPP and took a permanent position with INTERPOL. I still received the occasional call from her; she would let me know that she was still on the case, still looking for Kat. She’d run things by me, ask me questions, hope that I would see something differently.

I never did. No matter how hard I tried, it was always the same – just another dead end. After two months with no answers and seeing the pain it was causing to the kids to have one parent missing and another one absent by his own choosing, I handed in the gun and the badge and moved the kids to Warsaw.

We lived in a small apartment within walking distance of Agnes and Kris and they had taken on an active role in keeping the kids happy and sane in the face of everything going on.

It wasn’t a happy life, but it worked. And with every day that passed it got a little bit better, a little bit easier.

Some things would never be forgotten and every night, after the kids had gone to sleep, I unlocked the door to the small storage room and closed myself inside. Maps, photos, newspaper clippings and notes covered every inch of the wall. Some nights I worked, trying to find something I missed. Other nights I put my phone on the makeshift desk and just stared, my eyes locked on the Polaroid of Kat blindfolded and restrained, waiting for a phone call.

About the Author

H
arrison Drake is the pseudonym of a Canadian writer and career police officer who has chosen anonymity in order to protect a safe, secure and quiet lifestyle for his family.

The author is hard at work on numerous other writing projects in numerous other genres. If he can’t be found at home, playing with his children or sitting in his lonely writer’s garret, he’ll be outside, gazing up at the night sky and searching for answers.

Website:
HarrisonDrake.com

Twitter:
@HDrakeTheWriter